


Ghost Kiss

by D_O



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Because Neville Just Can't, Dream Sex, Exhibitionism, Frottage, Harry Needs To Check His Spells, M/M, Naughty Spell Intent, Wet Dream, potion accident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-13 00:17:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9097084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_O/pseuds/D_O
Summary: Draco has a late night visitor in the Infirmary...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Imbellis Consopio is a spell of my own creation; I haven't seen it anywhere else, and so PLEASE, ask before use. It roughly translates to "Unable to fight [lull into] a Peaceful Slumber". However, we all know that Intent factors into the end result of a spell, and thus... Harry's use goes slightly awry. Not that Draco complains.

Whatever soft moonlight that filtered through the curtained Infirmary windows was swallowed up by the contrasting shadows, so that a peaceful, dim and still atmosphere prevailed. All but one bed was unoccupied, and for once, The Boy Who Lived wasn't the one ensconced within the scratchy but adequately warm sheets. A blonde, tousled head of hair peeked out from the hem of the blanket, snuggling deeper into the feather-down pillow before turning to face his body to the celing. His eyes roved in their sleep, indicating that while the bed's occupant was resting, his mind was not. It replayed that afternoon over and over again in his mind's eye, as if to drum into his blonde skull that it was due to the ineptitude of Griffindor Lumps that he was now confined to the Infirmary until the Nurse's detoxifying compound erased all traces of the poison from his body.

 

"No! You useless lump of a Gryffindor! You do NOT add the Hellbore yet!" Professor Snape hissed, almost matching the hissing of the cauldron. It bubbled and spat noxious fumes rapidly, aided by startled, careless flick, of said boy's wand. 

 

"P-P-Professor! I'm sorry! I didn't mean-" stuttered the Bane Of All Potions. 

"Get out! All of you! Unless, of course, you'd like to meet your end here in my Lab..." Professor Snape barked, shooting a venomous glare to the now-silent Gryffindor.

In short order, belongings were packed up and students were shuffling through the doorway as fast as the clustered bodies could funnel out. Just as Draco was moving passed the table containing the botched potion, it gave an almighty belching bellow, engulfing the Slytherin in a cloud of poisonous gas. He doubled over, gasping and hacking, fingers clutched tightly to his swelling throat. Just as he keeled over and blackness crept into his eyes, he felt his body lifted and swiftly carried away from the evil concoction. With a flick of his wand behind him, Professor Snape banished the potion with a silent Evanesco before clearing the air with an Atmosphere Charm. That was the last that Draco recalled before waking just over an hour later with a splitting headache and an achy body.

 

He'd been here ever since. His half-concious mind registered the creak of the heavy wood doors as they opened but he assumed it was the Nurse and dismissed the sound from his mind. He was just dozing back off when he felt the familiar prickle down his back, the result of eyes trained on him. 

What does she want NOW?

He debated the merits of feigning deep sleep when he felt the bed dip slightly. He controled his initial shock at someone daring to clamber into a bed with him in favor of seeing what the intruder intended. A soft rustle and an even softer sigh drifted over to his hearing. It was ambiguous enough that he couldn't place a gender or persona to that puff of air. He ever so slightly cracked his eyes open and saw...nothing. There WAS a dip in the bed just beyond where his fingers rested atop the blanket, but there was nothing occuying the space the dip created. He eased his eyes back closed and waited, unsure if it was the incorporeal figure of a ghost, perhaps the Baron come to check up on his prized student? Or maybe Peeves, come to study the best way to taunt him later for this sojourn into Perfect Potter's vacation home. That thought stuck. Perfect Potter. He was here more often than he was in his own house. Could he have cast a Disillusionment spell and come to spy on his nemesis while he was incapacitated? Well! He'd show him! With a growl deep in his abused throat, he ground out quietly without opening his eyes.

"Whomever is there better clear off before I fetch my wand and give them a second scar!" Draco said, voicing his suspicions on who interrupted his recovery. 

There was a rustle again and the bed slowly sprang back up. Whomever was there had stood up. He was just about to grin mentally at himself for his victory when the bed dipped MORE, and CLOSER. He cracked his eyes back open and still saw nothing in the air, but definitive empty pockets where the blanket was depressed by an unknown weight. He felt more than saw the presence move closer and when the unfamiliar touch of warmth met his cheek, he couldn't comprehend that he had just been kissed. He raised his hand to the suddenly rosy cheek and stared into nothingness. He heard a soft laugh before the bed righted itself and the invisible figure departed with a final whisper. It was definitely a male whisper.

"Imbellis Consopio!"

The last thought that crossed Draco's mind before the spell lulled him into a helpless, but harmless sleep, was not only was the voice male, but the voice was tinged with an inflection the blonde couldn't place.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The potion exploaded into a ball of odorous fumes, surrounding the Slytherin within seconds. The sound of swiftly pounding soles on stone alerted him to the presence of assistance. He flailed his arms out, hoping to catch whomever it was that came to his aid. A warm and calloused hand gripped his hard and yanked him forcefully from the suffocating tendrils that tried to seep into his every pore. 

"I have you, don't worry." came his rescuer's voice. Draco's blood chilled as recognition dawned on him.

"Potter!?" he gasped out, aware that his voice was hoarse and it felt like his throat was bleeding.

"Who else would risk their own arse for yours?" the flat reply returned, the tugging intensifying until they emerged into a side-corridor off from the main that led to the Potion's Lab. They both stumbled into the wall, hacking and coughing. Draco wondered absently what happened to Professor Snape for Potter to have to come in after him. Once his coughing fit subsided he eyed Potter warily. 

"If you saved me out of some misplaced Hero Complex-" Draco started, bitterness lacing his words. He never got to finish because Potter had advanced on him with his inborn speed. Potter inserted himself into the Slytherin's personal space, flush up against the quaking body. With a withering glare, he cupped the blonde's cheek and brought his lips down roughly on the smooth pair of the Slytherin. Draco's spine went ram-rod straight, his hands splaying their fingers out as far as they could go, shoulders stiff and squared. A light nip to his lower lip made him wince as Potter drew away, his eyes a heated mass of darkened emerald. 

"That's why I saved you, you great prat." he hissed. Draco was suddenly very aware of the closeness between the two bodies, the two MALE bodies, and recoiled against the wall at the surprisingly intense reaction his traitorous body produced. If at all possible, Potter's eyes darkened even more, his tongue running over his own lower lip. It was folly to try and believe that Potter hadn't noticed his reaction. His flushed face, his tense body, so tense he was shaking. Not to mention the very obvious hardness pressed into Boy Wonder's thigh. With a shift, Potter nudged the erection gently, confirming he was aware. Still staring slightly up at the would-be -WAS, his mind corrected- hero, Draco returned the nudge gently with a smooth and subtle roll of his hips. 

What in the world am I doing? Rutting against Potter all because he saved me from that potion?

The thought evaporated quickly because Potter had decended on his lips once more, capturing them intensely, his hands finding and holding the rolling hips tight against his own. A frustrated growl rumbled around the corridor and Draco was supremely surprised to realize it came from his own throat. The friction had stopped but the pressure hadn't, and it was the friction his traitorous body wanted, needed, suddenly craved from his enemy. 

The enemy that saved you from Longbottom's deficient intelligence. The enemy that saved you so he could snog you moments later.

The thought forced its way into the forefront of his mind and Draco yanked his face away from those intoxicating lips. Who knew Potter could kiss like that?

"Remove yourself from my person at once, Potter." Draco forced out, his voice at war with his body.

"Why?" came the low reply. Why indeed?

"I...I don't want this." Draco answered, turning his face away. He could feel the burning stare against his cheek, or was that his own body's refusal to stop blushing?

"You're a liar, Malfoy." he heard Potter respond, pressing harder into the bulge with his own. Draco gasped and let his head flick back with a dull thunk against the stone of the wall.

"I think you want this very much. Too much, perhaps." Potter continued, grinding into him with increased fervor. Draco's hands involutarily braced themselves against the wall and pushed him straining body back up into the warm one against him.

"You see? Don't let your mouth lie when your body tells the truth." Potter hissed in his ear. When did he get that close? He felt warm air on his neck, then the press of soft, full lips against the skin tracing a line up and down his throat. Another gasp echoed around them and Draco knew at once it was from his own lungs. With a slight pause wherein Potter took the chance to smirk over at him, he resumed his clandestine actions with alacrity. They traded heavy pants and low groans after that, each pressing harder into the other in search of mindless, white-washed bliss. Draco could feel the coiling tension condense low in his belly and it exploaded south at the utterance of the Golden Boy against his neck when he found his release.

"Draco..."

 

Draco woke with a start, his heart hammering and his skin damp with a fine sheen of sweat. The morning sun shone through the gap in the curtains like a beam of dusty gold, falling across his body like a sash. He shifted his legs and noticed he was wet with something other than remnants of overheated skin. He grimaced as he lifted the bedclothes and witnessed his shame. He wasn't an adolescent anymore. Why in Morgana's Underworld would he release in his sleep? The details of the dream came flooding back, and had anyone been there to witness the recollection, they'd notice his face flooded with color in sync with the memories invading his brain.

Potter? He had a wet dream about Potter? The events of the night before came back to him then as well. Someone had snuck in the Infirmary to see him. He could even venture into silently awknowleging the kiss to the cheek. But it was only suspicion that it was Potter. Potter and that thrice-damned Invisibility Cloak, he now remembered. The Gryffindor Paragon didn't need a Disillusionment charm. Draco sat up in his bed, reaching for his wand. With a muttered Banishment charm, he cleared the bed of any evidence to his...humiliation. Was it still humiliating when he obviously so enjoyed it? And was it humliation when nobody was here to witness it? Draco thought about it all throughout breakfast, nibbling on a scone and sipping tepid tea. He was relatively certain he'd be here another night, at least. And if Potter came back...he'd find a shock. Draco carefully thought out a plan to finally knock him off his high-horsed pedestal.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Draco purposefully kept the curtains facing the Infirmary door slid shut. He knew Madam Pomfrey had retired for the night with assurances from himself that should anything arise, he'd seek her assistance immediately. He was ever such a good patient. He was an even better Slytherin. He watched the shadows play across the celing as the night wore silently on. He was just about to turn over and bury himself into the pillows when he heard the tell-tale squeak of the doors. Biting back a grin, Draco stretched langoriously out atop the bed, nude. He fisted himself fully, drawing up a hardness that rivaled his dream-erection. With a soft moan, he flicked his thumb over the tip and spread the gathering wetness there down the underside of his endowment. He noticed a flutter of the curtain as someone invisible passed it, creating a small breeze. A startled gasp juxtaposed over his moan and so Draco could plausibly pretend he didn't hear it while caught up in his own activities.

"Sweet Merlin..." Draco hissed, not needing to feign his enjoyment as his fingers rolled the foreskin roughly over his reddened tip. 

If Potter was going to sneak in and fulfill his private, perverted fantasies about kissing a sleeping Dragon's cheek, then Draco could fulfill one of his own, and drive the infuriating Gryffindor mad with lust. He wasn't sure if he'd welcome company physically or visually, and the question was wrenched from him as Potter whirled the cloak from his body. Draco didn't startle or stop his personal ministrations, and in fact he only flicked a condescending eye over to the revealed teen before focusing once more on himself. He tossed his head back and groaned out another muttered oath to Merlin, his hand speeding up along his length. He almost forgot that Potter was watching. That was, until Potter stopped his fisting with his own hand laid atop his.

"Get off!" Draco snarled through a pant, backhanding Potter's hand away.

"Oh, I intend to. After I help you get off." Potter replied quietly, reaching out once more. This time Draco didn't attempt to stop him. Externally, Draco was composed, coldly aroused. Internally, he quaked and burned like a newborn phoenix chick. Once the warm palm made contact and pumped deliciously, Draco hissed out an unintelligle string of curses. Potter slid his thumb over the head of Draco's weeping prick and the pale body writhed. 

"This...is better...than that bloody dream." Draco panted out deleriously, unaccostomed to anyone else tending to his body's needs. The inability to predict the hands next move heightened his arousal, as well as the difference in texture and creases along the palms, the tension in the fingers that gripped and pulled. He was well accostomed to his own hand and various charms designed in mind with Fun-For-Ones. Instead of smirking, like the Potter in the dream had, the Potter currently tossing him off only groaned softly.

"D-dream?" Potter asked, voice rough and low.

"I-" Draco started, but a particularly enjoyable twist of Potter's wrist silenced him.

"I dreamed too. Of you." Potter panted, eyes feasting ravenously on the continually weeping prick. 

A flash of delight coursed through Draco at that admission. But it seemed Potter wasn't done.

"I dreamed I had you...against a wall...and you wanted me." Potter continued, shifting up onto his knees and leaning over to blow gently against the wetness coating Draco's cock. It took a second for the words to sink in but when they did, Draco squeezed Potter's wrist, stilling him.

"After a potion accident similar to the one that landed me here?" Draco asked breathless, his eyes alert and fixated on the Savior before him. Potter dipped his head twice, his eyes dark still with uncovered lust and something else unnameable.

"I saved you..." Potter murmured, staring over at Draco as he raised himself up on his elbows to properly see the brunette. The black of his pupils ate up the vibrant silver as they blew wide. 

"We dreamt the same thing." Draco whispered, eyes flicking down to Potter's lips. He was suddenly very curious as to their taste, and if it were to match up to the taste in the dream. He threw his head back with a cry and collapsed onto the pillow because Potter-Harry-had resumed stroking his tortured heat with a firmness not achieved previously. He bucked up into the hand wontonly.

"Please...so close..." He whispered, grasping the blankets in his fists tightly. The sound of metal clinking, then cloth rustling filtered into his fevered mind. Movement over his exposed body and a sudden lack of movement on his aching memeber caused him to open his previously closed eyes and peer down. Potter-Harry-was kneeling between his spread legs. Draco attempted to snap them shut. No way was he going to go THAT far with Gryffindor. He only managed to enclose the brunette in his long legs.

That far...yet. His mind supplied. He snorted at himself.

"Don't even think about it, Potter." Draco said quietly. He watched as Potter- alright! Harry- reached into his opened pants and withdrew his own leaking hardness.

"Don't worry, Malfoy. I'm not going to fuck your Pure-Blooded arse. Yet, anyway." Harry replied, his voice projecting Draco's thought with more confidence than strictly neccessary.

Draco stared at the other prick, irritated that it was slightly longer and thicker than his own, and a deeper tan than Draco could ever reach naturally. The sight of the two vastly different skin tones fascinated Draco until movement tore his gaze away. Harry shuffled closer and Draco tightened his legs around Harry's trim waist in warning. His fear was misplaced because a new sensation, far from the pain of being penetrated, shuddered through his nervous system. Harry had fisted both of their cocks together, pumping slowly. Draco moaned loudly and arched up into the sensation by digging his heels into the Savior's lower back

"That...that's brilliant." He panted, sparks going off behind his closed eyelids.

Harry tightened his grip, the leaking pre-emission combining between the two allowed more than adequate lubrication. Nobody liked chaffed bits! Draco heard Harry groan and felt him buck gently, the exposed head of his prick pulling at Draco's over-sensitized foreskin each time he drew back to rut. The new, and intense, sensations coupled with the who, drove Draco to the edge quicker than he could have thought possible. 

"I...Close. I'm close..." Draco panted, his own hands leaving their fisted position in the blanket to wrap around Harry's hands, helping to pump them both to completion. Draco reached it first, crying out softly.

"Harry!"

Pearlescent drops splashed up and dropped onto their entwined hands and whiteness blanked his vision; despite this, his hearing was just as sharp. He heard few whining grunts emitted from Harry before he too released, coating their joined lengths with copious amounts of spunk.

"Gods, Draco!" Harry groaned.

If Draco could have came again so soon, he would have at the sound of his name spilling lustfully from those dusky rose lips. He was favored with an aftershock chill that raced over his body, making him tremble with satiation. Harry collapsed onto the bed next to him, panting quietly to regain his normal heartrate.

"Why..." Draco croaked, a dry throat preventing him from continuing. He must have panted like a bitch in heat. The thought made him cringe as a blush spread across his high cheek bones.

"Does it matter?" Harry replied, turning his head to look at Draco with one eye. The other was mashed into the blanket where he heavily rested.

"Perhaps not..." Draco replied quietly. 

"I should have pulled you out of those fumes." Harry mumbled against the scratchy bedclothes. All he got as a response was an arched brow.

"When I saw Snape carry you out, I thought..." Here Harry stopped. He swallowed heavily.

"You thought I died?" Draco asked in wonder. "Why would you even care?"

"You're a foul, evil little git, Malfoy. But...you're my opposite. There isn't Harry Potter without Draco Malfoy, is there?" Harry asked with a lilt to his voice. 

Draco thought about that. Would there be any normalcy in life without the pair of them? Always arguing, always fighting, always clashing spectacularly. Well, this was a new way to clash, that was for sure! A gentle smile touched his lips before he glanced back down at the nearly-dozed brunette. 

"No...There wouldn't be a Harry Potter without a Draco Malfoy."

A few moments of silence stretched before Draco once more broke it.

"Do you always want to shag those you attempt to save?" He asked lightly, but with a hint of bitterness.

"Actually...this is a first for me. And quite possibly the biggest mistake I could have made." Harry replied quietly, shifting to sit up. Draco stared at his hunched back thoughtfully.

"You sneak in here last night to see if I was alright, leave after giving me a kiss on the cheek, come back the next night and catch me tossing off, which mind you, I planned for you to catch me doing, you join in and bring us off more explosive than Expulso...and now..."

"And now...I'm going." Harry answered.

"And now you're running away. What, scared Potter? Scared that this could...lead somewhere?" Draco improvised and immediately felt the click of self truth. He wanted this to continue! He didn't want to go back to trying valiantly murder each other in the halls.

Harry turned to look at him with narrowed eyes, but no real malice behind them. They were still too hazy with sated lust to really bring any angry heat. 

"You wish, Malfoy." Harry replied while turning back around. His voice was curiously lacking any enthusiasm.

Draco pushed himself up to brace his body against Harry's, reaching around to grasp his chin. Harry allowed him to turn his face back to Draco's, the blonde's breath fanning gently against Harry's lips.

"Perhaps I do wish...Harry." Draco breathed, leaning in slightly before stopping a mere sliver away from the brunette. He felt and heard Harry gasp, then gulp, before he closed the distance tenderly, taking Draco's lips with his own in a sweet, barely-there ghost of a kiss.

~*~ Finite ~*~


End file.
